It worked fairly well. By Tuesday I was feeling pretty good. Mr. Cristaudo was rearranging the teams to try and make them a little more even. He called out the names of the people on each team.

"Team one, Bolch, James, Crone, Robinson, Johnson, Hardy and Keel, Johnson you're on the bench! Team two, Carter, Turnball, Fielding, Callum, Ashworth, Harrison, and Hyatt, Turnball bench! The rest of you I want over on the other court practising, we'll be swapping next period."

I went to sit in one of the stadium seats a couple of rows up thinking why did I have to get put on the same team as Keean. Mr. Cristaudo dropped his clipboard on the bench and walked forward. He clapped his hands together.

"Come on people let's go! Crone where's your singlet? I told you last time we did prac to bring your sports singlet."

Keean nodded.

Mr. Cristaudo barked again. "So where is it?"

"In my bag, Sir."

Everyone stopped what they were doing and waited with interest to see what was going to happen next.

"Get it on, Crone!"

Keean took a nervous step backwards and rubbed his hand up the back of his head. "I need to talk to you about that, Sir."

"Well talk. We haven't got all day!"

Keean sighed, shifted his hands to his waist and looked around at the class then back at Mr. Cristaudo. "In private, Sir."

"No." Mr. Cristaudo growled. "Get the bloody singlet on and stop being a pussy!" He turned to the rest of the class. "While we wait for Mr. Crone to grace us with his presence get yourselves into position."

Keean picked up his bag and threw it down hard on one of the stadium seats. He wrenched it open, pulled out the singlet and threw it onto the seat beside his bag. Keean almost ripped his shirt from his body. He picked up the singlet and looked through his hair towards me. I felt sorry for him. He must have been able to see the pity on my face. His body was glorious. I couldn't look away. He had an intricate tribal tattoo that went from the top of his arm and down towards his bicep. It had obviously been designed so it could be hidden under the short sleeve of a shirt. He glared at me, stood up straight and opened both arms towards me so his complete torso was facing me and said.

"What!"

I didn't answer. I bit my lip, embarrassed, but I didn't look away.

His aggressive stance softened, he tilted his head to one side and frowned at me. "Don't do that." His voice was less fierce.

I had no idea what he meant but assumed he wanted me to look away so I did. I heard him sigh as he pulled the singlet over his head. He headed back onto the court.

When Mr. Cristaudo saw him he started to slowly clap his hands. "Congratulations, Mr. Crone. We were happy to wait for you."

I watched as Mr. Cristaudo took hold of Keean's arm and studied the tattoo.

He smirked. "So the big man has a tat," he said loud enough for the whole class to hear.

Keean jerked his arm from Mr. Cristaudo's hold. I realised this was why he hadn't wanted to wear the singlet. Keean went to his position and glared at the teacher. The game began. Every time Keean got the ball Mr. Cristaudo blew the whistle. The whole class could tell Mr. Cristaudo was doing it to piss Keean off. After ten minutes of play I was substituted for Gina Bolch.

The game began again. Keean was a good player; he scored a couple of goals. He went to score a three pointer. Mr. Cristaudo penalised him for the hundredth time. Keean threw the ball hard at Mr. Cristaudo. The teacher ducked as it nearly hit him in the head. We all froze. Cristaudo stormed across the court towards Keean and jabbed him in the chest.

"What the hell are you playing at, Crone?" The force of Mr. Cristaudo's finger caused Keean to stumble backwards.

He regained his balance and stepped forward, forced his chest against Mr. Cristaudo's finger and loomed over him. "And what the fuck are you playing at, Sir?"

Mr. Cristaudo backed down a little. "I'm the umpire."

Keean dropped the volume of his voice. "Well how about you umpire fairly and let me get on with playing the game, Sir?"

Cristaudo took a step backwards and pointed towards the grandstand. "I'll umpire how I see fit. Either get back in position or sit out, Crone."

Keean stormed to the centre. The game continued. He played harder, anger seeping from every pour on his body. Mr. Cristaudo penalised him again. Keean let the ball roll across the floor, swept his hands up behind his head and growled. He took his position, determination on his face and waited for the penalty to be taken. Megan Turnball received the ball and threw a pass. Keean lunged to intercept it as I moved forward with the same idea in mind. He came down hard on my foot, spun quickly and grabbed me by the waist as I was going down. Keean managed to flip us somehow so he landed on his back taking the full force of the fall with me on top of him. As we were going down I heard him call out. "Fuck...!"

We were both breathing hard. I was lying on top of him, my legs straddled over his hips. My hands on his biceps. His hands gripping my waist. My face was against his neck, his in my hair. I had never been on top of a boy before. I instantly noticed how hard his body was against mine. It felt embarrassingly intimate.

My breathing changed rhythm as I lifted my head. We both stared at each other in shock then hurried to get up off the floor.

"Crone...!" Mr. Cristaudo yelled as he stormed towards us.

My foot hurt when I tried to put my weight on it. Keean was on his feet with his hands on his hips waiting for Mr. Cristaudo to reach us. He jabbed Keean in the chest once more. Keean ground his teeth and let out a groan, not in pain, but as if he was trying to stop himself from hitting Mr. Cristaudo.

I hobbled between them. "Sir, it wasn't Keean's fault." It was enough to distract Mr. Cristaudo. He saw I was limping.

"Crone help her to the nurse's office. I'll deal with you later."

"Sir, I'm okay, I don't need to go to the nurse's office. It was my fault."

He frowned at me. "You're hurt, Johnson?"

"I'm fine, Sir. I'll sit out for a bit."

He nodded so I hobbled to the grandstand and sat down.

"Crone...take a seat," Mr. Cristaudo said. "Cool your temper and wait for me after the lesson."

Keean spun around and followed me. He sat on the bottom row near his bag about five seats away from me. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees then hung his head and rubbed his hands backwards and forwards through his hair. I could tell he was trying to calm down by taking deep breaths in and out.

Victoria had been sitting on the bench. She ambled towards him and got close enough to touch his tattoo. She rubbed her hand up and down over it.

"Hey, Keean are you okay? I love your tattoo."

He snapped away from her. Lifted his arms up so she couldn't touch him. "Fuck off, Victoria!" he hissed.

Her hand froze in mid-air. She drew in a loud breath. Shock, then anger flashed across her face. Victoria whirled around and stormed off in the direction of the toilet. I couldn't help it but I giggled. The look on her face was priceless.

Keean turned on me. "What are you laughing at?"

I bit down on my lip to try to stop laughing. His eyes swept from mine and down to my mouth. A pained expression crossed his face. I had to say something so I grinned and said, "The look on her face. No one ever tells Victoria Carter to fuck off."

Keean chuckled. My heart did a flip. I looked away and bit down on my lip again.

"I'll have to apologise later," he said just loud enough for me to hear.

I looked down at him. His temper had disappeared but his expression was serious. He took a breath and focused his gaze on my mouth. "Thanks for stepping in out there." He looked up and into my eyes.

My heart jumped into my mouth. I had to look away as I said, "It won't have made any difference. He hates your guts."

Keean snickered and turned his head away. "Is it that obvious?"

"Oh...yeah," I tittered.

Keean pulled his singlet over his head. He stood up and reached for his bag. I couldn't take my eyes off him and went back to biting my lip. He found his shirt and looked up at me. I hung my head and put my hands up to my forehead to try and hide the fact I'd been looking at him.

"Sorry about your foot," he said.

I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I shrugged and reached down to feel my foot. "It's okay. Thanks for taking the brunt of the fall." I glanced at him. Keean looked at me closely then held my eyes with his. I felt that familiar surge as my stomach convulsed every time he'd ever looked at me.

"My pleasure," he whispered and pulled the shirt over his head.

Copyright © 2017 by Donna Fieldhouse. All rights reserved.

Hmm...what did Keean mean by my pleasure?  ♥♥♥

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